COPYRIGHT (c)

Don't be an ass. Seriously. If you can't write, you can't write. Period! Don't steal my stuff... if you do, the wrath of the gods of Olumo rock will fall on your head, your hair will not stay combed, mad men will invade your home, food in the freezer will spoil mysteriously. NO-ONE WILL TALK TO YOU AT PARTIES!!!

… And she really just squeezed it.

Standard

I am not a prude.
I have seen more naked female bodies than i even remember. Strangers have seen my body, i have seen strangers’ bodies.
Its that normal.
From secondary school through to university and NYSC camp. In fact, the last time I had any views of prudeness was probably at eleven years old; when i stepped into Louisville Girls High School, my prison for the following years of my life. After the first week, bathing in the same bathroom with three girls at once, all thoughts of scuttling into a towel and covering my womanly bits were dead.

So, when i saw movies of friends tapping fellow friends asses; checking if it were padded or not. Checking the bras their friends had on to check how much foam the bra had in it or how real the supposed boobs were once they were in the bathroom, I was like ‘nehh’, Hollywood has come again.
Imagine my surprise wgen one day, while i was gossiping Talking intellectual jibber-jabber with a friend, one of our colleagues came and gripped one of her boobs and was like “c cup bah?” My friend nodded and the girl disappeared. And that was it.
I was gubsmacked.
My friend wasn’t in the least bit affected by this invasion on her person so, I couldn’t make inquiries into the state of madness of this colleague.
I concluded it was the friendliness and freeness of my friend that would have permitted such boldness. As i was neither friendly or free, i reveled in the joy that my body will never be checked for size or whatnot.
And then, today, One of my older colleagues commented on how supposedly slim i was from front view compared to what the back view was. I laughed. I always laugh about it.
Then, suddenly, i felt a hand close in on my buttocks, jiggling it. She then called another colleague and was like “its even firm,” whilst still pressing and checking what i must assume is the amount of blood flow in the region. The colleague, came over and replied that “wow. My husband cannot walk behind you oh.”
And then they left.
Just like that. Leaving my poor molested bottom to gather the pieces of her life.